


Heart of the Wild

by punkish



Category: Fake News FPF, Stephen Colbert - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M, Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-08 21:05:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12262089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkish/pseuds/punkish
Summary: A weekend away with Stephen gets a little awkward.





	Heart of the Wild

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely a work of fiction and is in no way intended to be a factual representation of the thoughts, actions or life events of any real person.

Stephen bit his nails anxiously whilst sat on the sofa, and watched the cabin entrance. It was stupid to have brought him here, Jon was a soft city boy, not like the rugged outdoors-man that _he_ was. Restlessness urged him off the couch to pace back and forth by the threshold, a bear was surely eating his snack-sized friend at this moment.

“Damn those Godless killing machines.” he mumbled to himself.

That was it then, and if Jon was really gone he would need to save himself, cut the metaphorical rope. As he plotted his heroic terrified flee from the cabin Jon walked through the door and Stephen, deep in thought, almost knocked him down.

“Jon! Y-you're alive!?” Stephen grabbed his shoulders in genuine disbelief.

“Uh,” He patted himself down, mildly confused, “yeah I suppose I am..” and then looked around the room awkwardly as Stephen caught him in a tight embrace. “Is this going to happen _every_ time I go to take a piss?”

“I don't know what you're talking about Jon, the world outside these walls is unforgiving. We are surrounded by the unexplored, the unknown.”

“Actually I think...”

Stephen held his hand up to quiet him, “Yes, it's a big ol' dangerous place out there, and we have to be prepared that at any time you might not make it back alive.”

Jon rolled his eyes and walked over to the fireplace, stoking the embers and throwing on a fresh log. “Well as unlikely as it may seem, I'm here. I might die of starvation though.”

It was a pleasant autumn evening, the sun had dipped below the horizon and the woods around the cabin were thrown into shadow; save for the faint golden glow emanating from the windows of their dwelling.

Stephen was a surprisingly good cook so Jon was happy to let that duty fall to him; watching his friend with fondness in his “Kiss the Host” apron, as he expertly seasoned two thick-cut venison steaks. There was already a skillet heating on the fire and he brought the steaks over to it, a pleasant smell filling the room as they hissed and sizzled. Jon stretched out on the sofa and took a deep breath in. This was a good idea, he needed to get away from the city and clear his head for a few days. He appreciated Stephen inviting him along, although there was a distinct possibility that his motives were not entirely altruistic. When he looked towards the fireplace he caught Stephen watching him then quickly turning away, whatever that was he didn't mention it.

“Hey, uh, thanks for this man.. I mean bringing me up here with you. It's just what I needed.”

“It's my pleasure Jon.” Though Stephen now remained very focused on the skillet. “These are almost ready, could you grab a couple of plates?”

Jon rolled off the sofa to make his starring contribution to the meal, leaving them on the floor next to his friend, who was crouched in front of the fire. Stephen picked the plates up one at a time and placed a steak on each.

“They need to rest first.” He said knowledgeably, checking his watch, “We can eat in around ten minutes.”

Jon grumbled and flopped back into his seat, “You can't tell a starving man his food is “almost ready” and then tell him to wait ten more minutes!?”

“I don't make the rules Jon, I just follow them.”

“You seem to know a lot about this stuff.” He said thoughtfully, with the idea a conversation might pass the time more quickly.

Stephen gave him a quirky look as though it were not a question he was expecting, something about it felt much more personal than usual. “There's an element of self care that goes along with being the youngest in a huge family.” He turned to look at the fire, “You're not always at the top of the list, so one of the things I learned to do was cook for myself.” His voice trailed off wistfully.

Jon cleared his throat, “Oh, uh, well that's.. interesting.”

The reply seemed to snap Stephen out of his daydream, “It was survival my friend, you can't learn that in books. Blood, sweat and tears, trial and error.” he ranted.

“So you're saying there is no way you could have learned to cook from books? I don't think that's..”

“What I'm _saying,_ Jon, is you've got to go with your gut. I ate a lot of things that made me sick before I found the things that didn't. That builds character and immunity, they don't teach you that in your fancy elitist recipe books.”

“Uh, huh.” Jon eyed the steaks wearily, now not so certain he trusted in his friend's abilities.

Stephen picked up the plates and handed one to Jon, who's fingers lightly brushed his in the taking. The room suddenly felt very still and deathly quiet, the air thick with bristling tension. Jon frowned, resting the plate on his lap, surely that had to have happened hundreds of times over the course of their friendship, why was it weird now?

“Th-Thanks, Stephen.” he said quietly.

“You're welcome.”

Stephen walked purposefully to one of the single sofas and took a seat. They ate together in silence, neither wishing to acknowledge the oddness between them or what it might mean. Jon began to rationalize it as being the country air, this was just him relaxing, he wasn't used to how that felt so of course it would be weird. Stephen knew better, but that didn't mean he wanted to accept those feelings and he certainly wasn't going to out them willingly.

“This is really good.” Jon said after a long time, chewing and swallowing his final mouthful.

Stephen merely glanced at him and nodded his agreement.

This was too strange, he couldn't be in here right now, “I'll be back in a minute.” Jon got up and went outside to sit on the steps off the front deck. Pitch blackness surrounded him but it was peaceful, he drew his fingers through his hair and stared into the darkness.

Stephen finished eating and collected the plates, leaving them by the sink. He cursed himself for making things so awkward, it was the last thing he wanted. The prospect of spending days stuck up here with nothing but silence or stilted conversation filled him with dread. He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded and brows knitted in thought when the door opened, and in walked Jon.

“Feel better?” Stephen asked, casting a tentative look in his direction.

Jon did not reply but hesitated on the threshold with his crystal blue eyes glinting in the firelight, and fixed on Stephen. He sighed deeply as though he'd just made a decision and paced swiftly towards his friend, grabbed his face and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“Goodnight.” Jon turned and walked to the far end of the cabin where they had set up camp beds.

Stephen didn't move for a long while, he couldn't think, his mind was a useless pile of wet mush. The fire dimmed as the last tongues of flame joined the smoldering coals and he could hear Jon's deep, steady breaths emanate from the shadows. At least one of them would sleep tonight.

 


End file.
